Dancing Lessons
by Kelsey L Leigh
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo is a relatively normal, well-adjusted student, in a steady relationship with fellow student Inoue Orihime.  But he can't deny his illicit attraction to a certain schoolteacher.  AiIchi.
1. Initiation

**Summary: **Kurosaki Ichigo is a relatively normal, well-adjusted student, in a steady relationship with fellow student Inoue Orihime. But he can't deny his illicit attraction to a certain schoolteacher. AiIchi. A semi-oneshot - it's a multi-chapter, but a short story multi-chapter. Probably only three at the most.

My first ever AiIchi story. Written for **Sariniste **as a cheering-up present, and because I need an excuse to write this. It's been sitting inside my head wanting to be written for some time now, and it finally has its chance. Written because I find the whole student/teacher taboo thing sexy. And AiIchi is sexy. For some reason, Ichigo annoys the crap out of me _except _for in AiIchi. I think it's because he gets uke'd, every single time. (Aizen always wins.)

There's some IchiHime (which I don't particularly like, but it adds to the AiIchi) and some KeigoxTatsuki fluff, just for funsies. And there is sexy, sexy taboo AiIchi. There is actually some semblance of a plot beforehand, purely because I feel guilty just doing lemon. I feel like a lazy author.

**Warning: **This is glorious smutty yaoi smut. (No shit Sherlock.) If you don't like, don't read. And don't comment/flame. I fully accept constructive criticism (even if I don't always like it) but no pairing bashing or yaoi bashing please. Constructive criticism should be just that. _Constructive. _Thank you. Kthxbai.

Well, you can randomly insult me for writing yaoi if you want. I just won't care. And you'll get the dubious honour of publicly announcing that you're an immature, small-minded homophobe. And I will then proceed to lol.

Love ya lots. 3

* * *

Dancing Lessons

* * *

Chapter 1

Initiation

* * *

Giggles and blushes were already moving in circles around the school. To say the least, it was getting on Kurosaki Ichigo's nerves. Giggling girls made him uncomfortable at the best of times, and after four days straight of it, he most definitely wasn't at his best.

He slammed his locker door shut, hearing Orihime's laughter. She wound her arms around his neck, hugging him. 'You look so grumpy,' she teased.

'That's just how his face looks!' Asano Keigo's lunatic grin rapidly dropped into a grimace of pain. He clutched his arm, turning to glare at the culprit.

Arisawa Tatsuki didn't bother to retract her fist. She stared unabashedly at Keigo, looking completely unapologetic. 'And your face is so much better,' she said.

'Hey!' Keigo looked wounded, as per usual. 'A guy's girlfriend isn't supposed to say those kinds of things!'

Tatsuki's stare didn't drop, although the corner of her mouth began to twitch into a smile. 'And you're not supposed to insult your friends,' she told him. 'Apologise.'

'Only if you give me a kiss - ow!' Keigo dropped, clutching his head. Tatsuki was holding her schoolbag above him, unaffected as always by the act.

Ichigo ignored their antics. 'What's so great about this new teacher, anyway?' he grumbled. 'It seems like no one can stop talking about him.'

Orihime kissed him on the cheek, then let go. 'Aizen-san?' she asked. 'He used to teach at my old school.'

Ichigo turned to face her. 'Really?' he asked, momentarily confused. Then he remembered. 'Oh, right,' he said. 'You went to Seireitei High before you transferred here, didn't you?'

Orihime nodded. 'I was in his chemistry class,' she said, looking down. A blush spread across her cheeks. 'I kind of used to have a crush on him.'

Keigo laughed, still lying on the ground. 'Oh, a juicy scandal!' He sprang to his feet. 'Tell us, Inoue-chaaaaaaaaaan -'

Ichigo beat Tatsuki to it, giving his so-called friend a good hard smack on the crown of the head with the side of his fist. 'Shut up, idiot,' he growled. 'She said "used to." Didn't you hear that?'

Keigo collapsed again with a groan. Despite his words, Ichigo felt a tightening in his chest at the thought of Orihime having feelings for someone else besides him.

As if she could tell what he was thinking, she reached out to take his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. 'Kurosaki-kun is right,' she said, looking up at him with a reassuring smile. 'There's nothing to tell. It was just a silly crush. And it's all in the past now.'

'It looks like you're not the only one, anyway,' Tatsuki observed, looking in the direction of a nearby gaggle of girls. 'He must really be something.' Ichigo could hear snatches of their conversation, caught the name 'Aizen' mentioned repeatedly. He sighed.

'So why did he leave Seireitei?' he asked, changing the topic. 'There must have been a reason.'

'It's kind of sad, actually,' Orihime answered. 'It wasn't even really anything to do with him. You guys must have heard about what happened there just before I transferred, a couple of years ago.'

Nods went around the circle. Ichigo racked his memory. 'What was it again?' he asked. 'Some kid who was a pyromaniac?'

'There were a group of them.' Orihime's eyes were sad. 'They were burning parts of the school down. At first it wasn't that bad, and then - the houses nearby started being targeted as well. The police came to our school, and they caught him before too long.'

'Who?' Ichigo asked.

'Urahara-san, the biology teacher,' Orihime said. 'He was so nice, too. He used to let me sit out of class if I couldn't handle the dissections. They figured it out - because it was always the science labs being targeted, parts of the school where no one could have gotten in without a teacher's keys.'

'Couldn't someone have broken in?' Tatsuki asked.

Orihime shook her head. 'There weren't any signs of forced entry.' She sighed. 'It turned out he was running some sort of drug ring through the school, getting this group of kids to destroy the evidence he left behind in the science labs. I didn't really know anyone who was involved.'

Ichigo felt himself growing impatient, wanting to know how the story ended. 'So what did all this have to do with Aizen?' he asked.

'It was awful,' Orihime continued. 'The police caught Urahara-san red-handed, and he denied it. But that wasn't all.' She paused. 'The group of students that were found out along with him all blamed Aizen-san.'

Tatsuki's eyes widened. 'Why would they blame someone innocent? That's a horrible thing to do. Were they really that loyal to their ringleader?'

Orihime nodded. 'I guess so. Otherwise they would have just told the truth, wouldn't they?' She sighed again. 'What made it even more awful was that on the day they caught Urahara-san, Aizen-san was visiting his dying mother in hospital. There was no way he could have done it. I guess the rumours must have gotten too much for him, so he moved.'

Ichigo couldn't stand to see the sadness on her face. He hugged his girlfriend, and felt rather than saw her smile. 'It'll be better for him now that he's here, I guess,' he said, a little unwillingly. 'As long as you don't still have a crush on the guy.'

Orihime laughed. 'Don't be silly, Kurosaki-kun. I love _you_.' She kissed his neck.

Ichigo kept his concerns - if he could even call them that - silent. Something about the story seemed a little fishy to him. He supposed he could understand a group of drug-addicted teenagers trying to protect their supplier, not that he'd ever been in that position himself, but -

Why would they choose such an obvious lie to tell? It seemed stupid and pointless to him.

Ichigo shrugged it off. It was probably just jealousy talking, he thought to himself.


	2. Crimes

Dancing Lessons

* * *

Chapter 2

Crimes

* * *

Ichigo lazed in his seat, bored and restless. Clearly he wasn't the only one. His classmates were leaning across desks to talk to each other, all obviously sick of waiting for Kurotsuchi to arrive for the chemistry class. There were various rumours about Kurotsuchi Mayuri, none of them particularly complimentary. If Ichigo was being honest with himself, he would have to say that if he could picture anyone involved in a student-run drug ring, it would be Kurotsuchi. The man's blue hair, perpetual lab coat and penchant for messy dissections - which weren't chemistry-related in the slightest, and bothered Orihime - weren't exactly the hallmarks of a model citizen.

'Hey, Ichigo.' It was Keigo again, jabbing him in the back with a ruler. 'Isn't there some rule that says we can leave if no teacher turns up in the first ten minutes of class?'

'Shut up,' Ichigo said automatically, even though he vaguely remembered something of the sort from the beginning of the year. Technically, if a teacher didn't show up to take a class, the students in question were supposed to use the free period for study. What usually happened in practice was a group trip off campus for an impromptu lunch.

He glanced at the clock. Third-period senior biology started at eleven thirty, and it was already eleven thirty-seven. Ichigo felt a grin begin to spread across his face. He glanced over at Orihime, nudging her chair to catch her attention. 'Looks like we get a free period,' he murmured.

The door at the front of the classroom opened. 'Ichigooooooo!' Keigo was making noises reminiscent of a baboon, poking him in the back again. 'You spoke too soon!' he wailed.

Ichigo turned to contradict him, planning to say that it was probably just some latecomer. He was silenced by the man who entered.

He knew instantly who it had to be. Ichigo had gotten into enough trouble at school to know all the teachers by face, if not by name. He didn't recognise the man who was now standing at the front of the room, thick wavy hair falling in his eyes a little. Ichigo could see the light from outside reflected off the square glasses Aizen Sousuke was wearing, saw him smile in greeting. For some unknown reason, his eyes were drawn to Aizen's mouth. That smile was a graceful curve of surprisingly full lips.

'Please forgive me for my lateness.'

Aizen's voice was a deep, rich baritone, and Ichigo heard various indrawn sighs coming from girls around the classroom. He scowled, thankfully coming back to himself again. To his relief, Orihime looked unaffected. She was twirling a strand of hair around one finger, doodling on her notepad.

'Kurotsuchi-san is unable to teach,' Aizen continued. 'I am filling in for him today.' His smile was almost apologetic. 'There was an accident, I believe, in his home involving a fire. He is recovering, but may be out of action for some time. Until he is well again, I will be taking the senior chemistry class as well as my junior class.'

That rang an alarm bell. Orihime had said something about Aizen being blamed for the fires at Seireitei High by that group of students. Ichigo leaned forward in his chair, studying the man. His eyes narrowed.

'For the time being,' Aizen continued, 'Kurotsuchi-san informed me that there is a test for this class in five days.'

Yes, Ichigo remembered. The organometallic test. Orihime had been studying for it, and he - well, he had been trying to distract Orihime from studying for it. His ears burned.

Neither he nor Orihime had a lot of parental supervision. Orihime lived alone after her brother Sora had died, and Ichigo knew Kurosaki Isshin wasn't exactly what most people would call a typical parent. As such, he hadn't met with any opposition from Isshin the various times he'd stayed over at Orihime's house.

Ichigo could remember the first few times he'd tentatively ventured towards anything beyond kissing with her. It had felt a little like corruption, a little uncomfortable for that reason. Orihime was like light to him, he supposed, innocent and untouchable, something he was supposed to protect. It stood to reason it would feel a little strange to him, pulling her into his lap on the couch, sliding his hands slowly and tentatively up under her school blouse. Ichigo had half-expected Orihime to cringe away from him, looking horrified and abused.

Instead, she'd smiled shyly and leaned forward to kiss him, taking his wrists in her hands and moving his hands to her breasts. And God, the feel of her soft and warm and full in his hands through that damned shirt had been so _good_ -

Ichigo blushed to the roots of his hair. He'd never had a girlfriend before her, and he was a little scared of it all to be honest, just as shy and uncertain as she was. He forced himself to pay attention to what was going on in front of him. Anything like that could wait until after school was over. Orihime had the right idea, he knew that. They would be going to university next year, and he needed to get good grades and so did she.

He was distracted from his inner monologue by Aizen's voice, that deep smooth voice which sent a shudder through him for some reason.

'Is there anything anyone would like me to explain?' Aizen asked, moving around the desk to stand in front of it. He was wearing a grey jacket over a white collared shirt and black slacks, looking every inch a teacher. He was half-leaning against the desk, long legs stretched in front of him, hips forward ever so slightly. Ichigo realized he was staring and blushed again. What was wrong with him today?

Near the front of the class, a pale boy with dark hair and a narrow, serious face raised his hand. 'Aizen-san, could you please go over unimolecular nucleophilic substitution reactions again? There were some mechanisms I didn't quite understand.'

Ichigo scowled again. _Smartass, _he wanted to say. Ishida Uryuu could never resist an opportunity to rub in the fact that he was top of the class. As if Ishida could hear what he was thinking, the slender youth turned, a smirk on his lips.

Aizen began speaking, walking back to the board. Just like that, Ichigo was distracted again. He wasn't listening to what the man was saying. He was listening to the rhythm of that voice, watching long deft fingers drawing a reaction mechanism on the board, saw the outline of broad well-built shoulders under the man's jacket.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Ichigo sat, enraptured, his notebook open. The page was still completely blank by the time the bell had rung for the start of fourth period. Aizen turned away from the board, and looked directly into his eyes.

Ichigo gulped, feeling warmth flood him. How could something this small, this simple, make him come undone like this? Aizen's eyes were a deep rich chocolate. Behind the reflective mask of the glasses was something very far beyond teacherly, something dark and sharp and yet somehow inviting.

Ichigo felt the same way he had with Orihime on the couch, one of her legs between his, her knee pressing just lightly against the inside of his thigh. Was it his imagination, or was that a flash of the tip of Aizen's tongue tracing that full lower lip?

His face burned. He could feel his erection pressing against the seam of his pants, and all around him students were standing up. The bell was ringing. Class had ended.

Blushing, Ichigo stood up, picking up his books. Abruptly, he turned and left, not giving Aizen a second glance.

He had been imagining it. The idea of his goddamn substitute _chemistry _teacher, who was _male, _looking at Ichigo and _licking his lips - _

That idea did nothing to dispel his arousal.

Ichigo scowled furiously at nothing, not noticing Orihime running to keep up with him.

Clearly, he was having a bad day. That was all it was.

It had to be.

* * *

YEAH YOU WISH ICHI…

Ahem.

Sorry Orihime, you're not getting his virginity. That…belongs to Aizen-sama. Oh God, I…would totally jump Aizen if he was my chemistry teacher. I would do him right on that desk. (Pretend you didn't hear me being a pervert.)

GROW SOME BALLS AND DO IT ICHI…

Ahem.

RAPE TIME PLZ…

I MEAN CONSENSUAL SEX TIME PLZ…

Come on. We all know it's gonna be consensual. Because…Ichigo, Aizen can make you hard just by looking at you. That is the power of his sexiness.

This no-strings-attached fanfic is so much fun. I should do this more often. Although I've put in more plot than I planned. It might end up being a longer multi-chapter than I thought.


	3. Whoever

Typing on the bus. Because I can.

Seems like this is going to be a longer multi-chapter than I thought. Hey, I'm making this stuff up as I go along. And I'm sure no one's going to hate me too much for giving them more AiIchi. ;)

I seem to like making people wait for the smut. Lol. Speaking of smut…I'm thinking of drawing a naked Aizen on deviantART. I'm approaching the 1K pageviews mark, so I figured I need to reward my watchers in some way...and what better way to do that than with some naked Aizen sexy time?

Well, _almost _naked. I refuse to draw his, erm, Bankai. If you support this motion…then show your support in some way XD I'll need a lot of encouragement (and courage) to even start sketching naked Aizen, let alone shading and colouring him. That's a lot of sexy to capture. And men's bodies frighten me a little when I'm drawing them.

* * *

Dancing Lessons

* * *

Chapter 3

Whoever

* * *

Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

He couldn't _sleep. _

Ichigo rolled over in frustration, punching his pillow. It was a warm summer night. He could feel sweat trickling down the backs of his legs like insects crawling under his skin.

Of all nights - the test was _tomorrow. _Ichigo's eyes felt red and sore from studying. He _needed _a good score in this test. He was trying to get into medicine, and chemistry wasn't something he could afford to fail, or even just scrape through.

He briefly considered studying, then decided against it. His head felt crammed too full of information. If he read any more, tried to memorise any more organic reactions, he would forget everything he'd ever learned this semester.

Ichigo thought of Orihime. How she managed it he'd never know. She always stared dreamily at the ceiling in class, only occasionally taking down notes, but each year around she placed in the top ten in every subject.

Then again, she didn't have the distraction he had in chemistry.

Ichigo tossed and turned, trying to knock Aizen Sousuke's face out of his head. He didn't succeed. Despite his best efforts, he'd been unable to take any notes in the revision lessons leading up to the test. Every time he'd made a pathetic half-attempt at drawing a structure in class, he'd heard the man's voice, looked up to see the movement of those full lips, and felt himself grow suddenly and inexplicably hard.

Each time, his physical reaction to Aizen's presence raised some disturbing questions in Ichigo. The first, and most worrisome, was the doubtful light it cast on his sexuality.

He couldn't…be _gay, _could he?

Ichigo bit his lip hard at the thought. It was a stupid idea, he knew that. He had a _girlfriend, _and she was arguably the most beautiful girl at Karakura High.

Arguably? Ichigo sat up in bed, grinning to himself despite the itching behind his eyes. No one could match Orihime in terms of looks, and the only one who didn't seem to realize it was her. That was what he loved about her, the way she never seemed to care about her appearance or obsess about it the way other girls did. It made her all the more appealing to him.

In any case, he had feelings for Orihime and no one else, and that was all there was to it. He wasn't going to think on the matter any more.

Ichigo lay down in bed, pulling the sheets over him. His eyes shut, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

**

* * *

**

His room was warm and sunlit. Ichigo buried his face in his pillow, not wanting to get up. He felt pleasantly sleepy, and settled his body further into the mattress. He turned over, glancing at the alarm clock next to his bed. 10.37 a.m. He'd slept in.

Cold panic swept through him. _Shit, _he thought, jolting upwards. _The test. _

'Shit!' he said aloud, not caring who might hear. He hurriedly dressed, pulling on his school uniform, then ran downstairs -

'Onii-chan?'

Yuzu sounded sleepy. She was at the foot of the stairs, rubbing her eyes, still in her pyjamas.

'Move!' Ichigo told her. 'I'm late!'

'Why are you in your school uniform, Onii-chan?' Yuzu looked puzzled. 'It's the weekend.'

Ichigo stared at her, disbelieving. Then the truth slowly sank in, and he sighed, relieved. He'd gotten the days mixed up, thank God. It was Saturday today, the twenty-sixth, and the test was on the twenty-eighth.

He'd missed out on a perfectly good sleep-in for nothing.

Ichigo grumbled to himself, shuffling into the kitchen. He poured himself a bowl of cereal, not noticing or caring what kind it was. He dumped it on the table, moving slow and zombie-like back to the fridge for milk -

He didn't make it that far. 'In your school clothes, on the weekend?' Isshin roared, raising his fist as if in victory as Ichigo fell to the floor. 'And after you've spent all week studying, Ichigo! My son is turning into a nerd!'

'What the hell?' Ichigo jumped up, swinging a kick at his father's head. 'What kind of dad says those things when his son's been working hard studying for a test?' he bellowed. 'I'm just trying to get good grades! You should be happy for me, not hitting me!'

His kick connected. Isshin stumbled to the side, blood beginning to trickle from his left nostril. Despite the minor injury, he was grinning. 'That sounds like the kind of thing a nerd would say!' he taunted. 'Grades are for nerds, Ichigo! I bet you're studying again today!'

Ichigo scowled, sitting at the table. He didn't want to admit it to Isshin, but the thought of more studying made him want to beat his head against the nearest wall. 'I'm going out,' he said gruffly.

'You'd better be going out with your girlfriend!' Mercifully, Isshin left the room, whistling to himself.

Ichigo noticed Karin sitting at the other end of the table, staring resignedly into midair. 'What's he so cheerful about?' he asked, jerking his thumb in what had been Isshin's direction.

His sister shrugged. 'Don't ask me,' she replied.

Ichigo didn't. He finished his cereal, heading upstairs to change his clothes before leaving the house. He didn't have far to walk. The video store where Keigo worked was only three blocks away from the Kurosaki Clinic.

Aizen was getting inside his head. Ichigo couldn't deny that, as much as it made his skin creep all over. He had some questions he needed to ask, and hopefully the answers he got would set his mind at rest.

But first of all, he needed Keigo.

Ichigo marched into the video store. Keigo was lounging behind the counter as usual, playing with some kind of game console. His thumbs were glued to the buttons, and his tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow was furrowed in concentration.

Ichigo sighed loudly. 'Why the hell is Arisawa dating you?' he muttered. 'She could definitely do better.'

Keigo sat up straight, one arm concealing the video game behind his back. 'Don't sneak up on me, Ichigo!' he exclaimed. 'I thought you were my boss!'

Stepping away from the counter in case Keigo decided to do the usual and pounce on him, Ichigo snorted. 'I can't blame your boss,' he pointed out. 'You're getting paid to sit there. You could do something useful.'

Keigo's eyes widened. 'You don't understand, Ichigo!' He leant over the counter. 'He made me vacuum this morning! I dusted and everything! There haven't been any customers since we _opened!_' A horrified expression crept over his face. 'Do you even know what time my shift finishes?'

'Why would I?'

'I finish,' Keigo said tearfully, holding a hand dramatically to his chest, 'at two.' He pointed a trembling finger at the computer screen. Ichigo looked closer, and saw the digital time display reading 11.16.

'I'm so _bored!_' Keigo wailed, wringing his hands. 'The clock is my enemy! Time moves even more slowly here than it does at school! Ichigooooooo -'

Ichigo flung out his fist just as the other boy leapt over the counter. Keigo fell to the ground, clutching his nose. 'Oww,' he groaned. 'Why'd you punch me, Ichigo? Now my face will be all bruised! And I have a date with Tatsuki after work -'

Ichigo looked down at him, unmoved. 'I don't care about that,' he said. 'Is Mizuiro working today?'

Keigo slowly got up, and sniffed. 'No. If he was I'd at least have a friend to talk to.' His eyes narrowed in envy. 'He's at home, as far as I know.'

'Thanks,' Ichigo answered, turning towards the automatic door. Something made him stop and turn to look back. 'Have fun on your date,' he said, leaving the store before Keigo could leap at him again.

He knew the way to Mizuiro's house. How could he not? Ichigo had lived his entire life in this neighbourhood, and had known Mizuiro and Keigo since his first day at Karakura High.

Mizuiro himself opened the door when Ichigo got there, which wasn't surprising. As far as Ichigo knew, Mizuiro had about as much parental influence in his life as he or Orihime did.

The other boy smiled. Mizuiro was the very image of a straight-A school student, even on his days off - always polite and well-dressed. Ichigo knew Mizuiro was younger-looking than most of the other guys in their year, but that didn't stop the Karakura High girls from flocking to him. It was strange - as far as Ichigo knew, Mizuiro had never had a girlfriend, or expressed any desire to change that.

'Kurosaki-san,' Mizuiro greeted him, holding the door open. 'You're not out with Inoue-san today?'

Ichigo shook his head. 'I'm meeting up with Orihime later.' He looked at Mizuiro. 'I need to ask you something.'

Mizuiro looked back. 'Is it about Aizen-san?'

Ichigo's throat closed up, his heartbeat thudding erratically in his ears. He stared at his friend in shock, his mouth suddenly dry. _Is it that obvious? _he thought to himself.

'Yeah,' he muttered.

'You don't trust him, do you?' Mizuiro was regarding him with youthful-looking intelligent eyes. Ichigo breathed an internal sigh of relief, moving indoors. 'You're pretty shrewd,' he observed.

'It wasn't hard to figure out,' Mizuiro responded. 'I know you were asking Inoue-san a lot of questions about him. Asano-san told me.'

Ichigo flopped down on the couch in the living room, watching Mizuiro disappear up to his room. He stared at the family's TV screen, feeling pensive.

For a moment there, he'd been paranoid. Did everybody know? Ichigo shook himself. He was being stupid. There was nothing to know. There was no deep dark secret for anyone to discover about him and Aizen. It was just coincidence, that was all.

It was coincidence that Ichigo found himself avidly watching the movement of the older man's mouth as he talked in class, his sensual baritone speaking the names of organic compounds as if caressing them. It was coincidence that his eyes constantly lingered on Aizen's lips, occasionally flicking up but not quite daring to meet the mercurial intelligence in the man's dark brown eyes behind scholarly glasses.

It was purely coincidence, nothing more, that Ichigo spent more time watching Aizen than he did thinking about chemistry.

He swore quietly to himself, clenching his hand into a fist.

Mizuiro emerged again, carrying a slender laptop computer under his arm. 'Is something wrong?' he asked.

Ichigo shook his head vehemently. 'No. I'm fine.'

Mizuiro set the laptop down on the table, opening it and powering it on. The startup screen glowed blue, eventually fading to the desktop, and Mizuiro clicked on the Internet browser icon, opening it. 'I've done some research already,' he said.

That surprised Ichigo. 'So you don't trust him either?' he asked.

Mizuiro shrugged, falling silent. He was obviously unwilling to say more. After a while he spoke again while scrolling through the browsing history. 'Most of what I found is just what Inoue-san knows,' he said, changing the subject. 'It's about what happened at Seireitei High School.'

Ichigo saw a newspaper article flash briefly across the screen. Mizuiro scrolled down, and Ichigo read where he was pointing. 'He only gets a mention,' he said, hearing the disbelief in his voice. 'And even then, not by name. They just describe him as the school chemistry teacher.'

'False allegations,' Mizuiro read aloud. 'Arson, drug trafficking, drug manufacture - all crimes Urahara Kisuke was charged with.'

'What about him?' Ichigo latched onto the name. 'Maybe if we researched him as well -'

Mizuiro shook his head. 'It's not that simple, Kurosaki-san.' He looked away from the laptop screen. 'Urahara Kisuke-san is just as elusive. There's nothing more to find.' He sighed. 'Although,' he added, 'I did find this.'

He opened up another browsing page. It was a journal article, something about the synthesis of some new drug -

'What's this?' Ichigo asked, trying not to sound rude. He wasn't exactly in the mood for chemistry right now.

Mizuiro tapped the screen. 'Look at the author of the paper,' he said, his voice soft.

Ichigo looked closer, the fine print straining his eyes. He took in a breath. 'But he's a high school chemistry teacher,' he said, disbelieving again.

Mizuiro opened up another page. There was another wordy title, another synthesis, an impossibly long chemical name. And there it was again, the author's name sitting in smaller writing, drab and unassuming above the article abstract.

_S. Aizen (PhD)_

Ichigo stared at Mizuiro in shock. 'He's got a _doctorate?_'

Mizuiro scrolled down the page. 'More By This Author,' he read aloud, clicking the link.

The page that came up displayed twenty or so search results, ordered alphabetically. Ichigo stared at them in utter astonishment. 'He can't have a doctorate,' he said. 'Why would someone with a PhD take a crappy job as a teacher?'

He reached over Mizuiro's shoulder, fingers brushing across the touchpad. Ichigo clicked on one of the articles, saw his name in fine print -

_Sousuke Aizen (PhD)_

'It could be someone else,' Mizuiro mused. 'Sousuke's a common name.'

Ichigo saw another link to the left of the picture, a _New Scientist_ article. He clicked on it, saw the picture appear on the screen.

A man in a suit was giving a cool practised smile, lifting his hand slightly in a wave to the camera. 'Sousuke Aizen makes pharmaceuticals breakthrough,' Ichigo read. 'Possibility of eradicating hereditary cancer types?'

'It looks nothing like him,' Mizuiro pointed out. 'We were being paranoid, Kurosaki-san.' He laughed, but Ichigo caught the strained edge in his voice. 'He really is just a high school chemistry teacher.'

Ichigo looked closer. Mizuiro was right. The man in the photograph had casually tousled hair, a single strand hanging in between his eyes. Unlike Aizen Sousuke, he wasn't wearing glasses. His stare was cool and intelligent, a slight amused smile gracing his lips.

Looking at those lips sent a familiar lance of heat to Ichigo's groin. It made him immensely uncomfortable.

'Thanks for this,' he said to Mizuiro, getting up. 'You helped a lot. But I have to go now, or I'll be late for Orihime.'

Mizuiro nodded, the polite smile back on his face. 'You're welcome, Kurosaki-san,' he said.

Ichigo let himself out, cursing when Mizuiro could no longer hear. He needed a plan, for certain. He wanted to know why someone with a specialized graduate degree was teaching in a high school more full of underage deadbeats than students. And he wanted to stamp out this - whatever the hell it was - he felt towards Aizen for good.

Ichigo made up his mind. He was a juvenile delinquent, according to Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

It ought to be easy for a delinquent to stake out some high school teacher's house.

* * *

*insert screenshot of Admiral Ackbar here*

IT'S A TRAP

Yeah, I know it didn't need to be said…but it still needed to be said. Don't judge me. Yes, I like Star Wars. (Who doesn't?)

Oh, Ichigo, I facepalm at you. And I lol at you. So very, very clueless. And you're such an innocent little school student, I want to pat you on the head.

Oh, how Aizen-sama's going to have fun corrupting you. And yes, he totally has a PhD. 'Doctor Aizen' has such an evil ring to it, don't you think?


	4. Trial

There is…the beginnings of smut in this chapter. Hell yes.

Oh, Ichigo, we told you not to try and sneak into Aizen's house. We _told _you.

Oh yeah, Aizen's house number…there's a subtle joke there. Anyone who watches (or reads) Soul Eater will get it.

* * *

Dancing Lessons

* * *

Chapter 4

Trial

* * *

'Damn,' he muttered to himself. 'It's supposed to be here.'

Ichigo scanned the printout, frustrated. Could he have missed the house? No, it was more likely that the registry service he'd looked up on the Internet at home was dodgy.

It probably would've been faster and easier to ask Mizuiro to help him find the address. Ichigo sighed, burying his head in the palm of his left hand. He'd been stubborn and hadn't wanted to ask.

No, he knew there was more to it than that. He hadn't wanted Mizuiro to know. Mizuiro was smart. Mizuiro would guess. And it was no use continuing to tell himself there was nothing to hide.

He didn't trust Aizen Sousuke, that was for sure. But he couldn't deny the strange physical attraction he felt towards the man.

Ichigo swore under his breath, as he'd grown into the habit of doing whenever his chemistry teacher's face appeared in his head. He wanted Kurotsuchi to come back to class, damn it. At least listening to Kurotsuchi's deranged cackling at the mention of chloroform didn't make him hard -

Ichigo brought himself back down to earth. He needed to focus on the task at hand. And the task at hand was spying on Aizen.

He examined the printout again, squinting in the poor light. Mizuiro had been right. Sousuke _was _a common name. The registry service Ichigo had consulted had given him exactly fifty-seven results located in Japan, all named Aizen Sousuke. There were only two in Karakura Town, and Ichigo had picked the location geographically closest to the high school, figuring that made sense. The house was in a suburb he was unfamiliar with, so he'd typed the address into Google Maps and printed the result he'd been given.

He was looking for the house numbered 564, but the street only went up to 26. Ichigo moved under the streetlights, trying to look like anything but a juvenile delinquent.

It wasn't exactly a surprise that he didn't come near this part of town often. So far, it was looking like Karakura Town's rich-people suburb. Ichigo looked around at the houses, all at least two-storey, and wondered how much his father would have to make in a year to live in one of them.

He reached the end of the street, feeling frustrated again. Then he noticed the street sign, and wanted to hit himself in the head. He'd taken a wrong turn.

Thankfully, he could see the right street up ahead, to the left. Ichigo walked there, hoping no one would call the cops on him. He was a single teenager out alone at night, and this was the fancy part of town. He probably looked suspicious as all hell.

Ichigo looked down at himself. He was wearing close-fitting dark jeans and his best collared shirt, the only dark shirt he owned. His father had made him buy it at the beginning of the year for university interviews.

He snorted quietly at the irony of it. Where he lived, he'd probably look like he was dressing up, perhaps for a date. Over this side of Karakura Town, he knew he just looked like a delinquent.

He turned into the street, and intook a breath. Clearly this was the fancy part of the fancy part of town. Practically every house here had a Mercedes or a BMW parked in the driveway. Ichigo could see in-ground pools through wrought-iron gates, and shivered.

_If I can't find it, I'm going home, _he thought. _I'm past curfew anyway. Dad'll be wondering where I am. I'll probably get smacked in the head when I get there as it is. _

But it looked like he was on the right track. 560, 562...Ichigo counted, finally stopping in front of the right one.

564.

He practically choked. _No way, _he thought to himself. _There were only two Aizen Sousukes in Karakura Town, and I managed to pick the wrong one. _

This wasn't a house. It was a _mansion. _It was more modern-looking than everything else in the street, smooth white stone greeting Ichigo's eyes ghostlike in the dark. The car sitting in the driveway, parked almost casually, was a sleek black Porsche.

Ichigo gulped. _There's no way he lives here, _he thought. _No one could afford this on a teacher's salary. _

Although…perhaps this was more proof. Ichigo recalled the slightly grainy image of the man in the suit, the curl of hair hanging between his eyes, his lips still lush and erection-inducing despite the poor quality of the picture.

Aizen Sousuke was no simple chemistry teacher. He could confirm that, if he knew this was actually Aizen's house.

Ichigo crouched behind a nearby rose bush, hearing the flicker of lights in the house. His breath caught in his throat. _Shit, _he thought. Whoever lived here was obviously a light sleeper.

The rectangle of light looming towards him over the lawn drew his eyes. Ichigo made the obvious conclusion, and almost didn't believe it at first.

He peered over the top of the rose bush, and felt his eyes widen. He wasn't wrong.

The door was wide open. It was as if he was being invited in.

Ichigo forced his racing heart to still. Obviously it would be a bad idea to go in. He would be invading someone's privacy, quite possibly someone who wasn't Aizen Sousuke the chemistry teacher.

A childish desire to see how the other half lived gripped him. Ichigo couldn't believe himself. He had better things to do than drool over someone's plasma-screen TV and surround-sound system.

He should go home to Isshin and Karin and Yuzu. If he left now, there was even a chance he might get dinner.

But for some reason, his feet were creeping stealthily over the damp lawn, staying out of the reach of the light coming from the open door.

This was a bad idea. No, this was the worst idea he'd ever had. What was he thinking? This wasn't just teenage misbehaviour. He would actually be breaking the law. He could be charged.

Ichigo knew he was a good kid. He got good grades, he had a beautiful kind-hearted girlfriend, everyone liked him even if he was a little rough around the edges. He wasn't this kind of person.

But he couldn't stop himself from walking towards that open door. It was as though he were hypnotised.

Ichigo couldn't lie to himself. He knew full well what was drawing him forwards. It was the memory of those dark intelligent eyes behind the man's glasses, that soft full mouth, the firm body beneath shirts and pants that were always muted monochromatic shades.

He slipped inside the door, feeling as though reality were suspended with the sheer power of his audacity. This was so wrong, so unbelievably wrong, that it couldn't possibly be happening.

Then Ichigo was standing in the hallway, feeling lush pale carpet under his shoes. He moved into the living room, still carrying that air of unreality with him.

And Aizen Sousuke was lying there on a leather couch in front of a glass coffee table, smiling pleasantly as though Ichigo were a long-awaited guest. Slender fingers were curled around the stem of a wine glass, blood-red liquid catching the muted light with a gleam. The glasses he always wore were absent, his hair pushed back from his face yet at the same time casually tousled, one curl resting to the left of his nose. Ichigo knew then that he'd been correct, but triumph at his amateur investigative efforts was the furthest thing from his mind.

What he was feeling now was dark, subversive desire.

Aizen was wearing a silk shirt the same colour as the wine in his glass, the first two buttons undone to reveal a pale marbled throat. Ichigo tried and failed not to notice - _admire _- the way his dark, expensive-looking pants clung to a pair of long, muscular legs and the sharper lines of his hips.

Aizen set the wine glass down on the table, beckoning Ichigo forward with one long, slender finger. Ichigo gulped again.

'How -' he stammered.

The polite smile on the man's lips curved into something much more intimate, a smile filled with dark promise. 'You made it quite obvious,' Aizen said, leaning against the couch. 'You never seemed to make too much effort to conceal your attraction to me.'

Ichigo flushed. This scenario felt even more like a dream now. 'What -' he began again, and then stopped, unable to finish the question.

Aizen licked his lips, his eyes never leaving Ichigo's face. 'You can't have thought I wouldn't notice?' He chuckled. 'You never take notes,' he recited, almost mockingly. 'You continually - and openly - stare at me, even though you must be well aware of how morally questionable your attraction to me is. You, Kurosaki Ichigo, are a textbook case of unrequited lust.'

Ichigo knew his face was red now. 'I - I'm sorry,' he mumbled. 'You're right. I know it's wrong.'

Aizen laughed again, and then regarded Ichigo with that dark look in his eyes again. 'I don't recall asking you to apologise,' he said. 'Although I do remember, quite clearly, this.' He beckoned Ichigo forward again, impatience twisting his mouth. 'Come here,' he ordered.

Ichigo obeyed. He moved hesitatingly towards the older man, wondering what he was getting himself into.

'Now kneel,' Aizen instructed. 'Kneel next to me.' Ichigo did, kneeling at the foot of the couch, watching his full lips smile again at that. Aizen's long-fingered hand moved to the back of his head, stroking his hair in a manner that was decidedly possessive.

Ichigo knew then what was coming, and knew this was another bad idea. The clear-cut thing to do would be to walk away. He could run back to the Kurosaki Clinic, he could run back to Isshin and Yuzu and Karin and pretend none of this was happening, had happened -

Aizen paused for a moment, looking deep into Ichigo's eyes again. Then he licked his lips again, pulling Ichigo in.

It definitely wasn't his first kiss. Ichigo had kissed Orihime far more than once, but this was so much more -

Intense was the only word he could think of to describe it. Ichigo had always been the one to take the lead between him and Orihime. This was vastly different.

Aizen was kissing him once, twice, then a third time, and Ichigo heard the pleased noise in the older man's throat. Then Aizen licked Ichigo's lower lip, and delved his tongue into his mouth.

Ichigo couldn't hold back a moan. Aizen was very much in control, not the way Ichigo himself had been when he'd tentatively slipped his tongue past Orihime's lips for the first time. Aizen was tasting and exploring the inside of his mouth, a dark chuckle coming from the back of his throat at Ichigo's answering whine of pleasure.

God. He'd never wanted anything so much in his entire life. His erection was straining at the zipper of his jeans, and Aizen pulled his face away. He was smiling again, eyes dark with lust.

'Was that wrong?' he asked.

Ichigo nodded, dull and sluggish and unmistakeably aroused.

Aizen's eyes flashed. 'That,' he murmured, 'is part of the appeal, isn't it?' Without waiting for an answer, he cupped the back of Ichigo's neck, stroking the skin as he'd stroked his hair.

'Come here,' he repeated.

Ichigo didn't need to be told twice. He breathed out heavily, joining Aizen on the couch, lying on top of him, against his chest. Aizen parted his legs, pulling Ichigo's body so that his hips were between Aizen's thighs. Ichigo felt a surge of shameful excitement at the hardness he could feel pressing against his own arousal.

His hand reached down of its own accord, finding the tightening of Aizen's pants, fingers stroking Aizen's erection. Aizen chuckled, wrapping his arms around Ichigo's body, pulling him down further against his chest.

Aizen sighed in anticipation. 'Oh, I shall enjoy you,' he murmured, one hand stroking Ichigo's hair again. 'Now -'

The other hand began deftly unbuttoning Ichigo's shirt. 'Shall we continue?' Aizen breathed, and Ichigo felt his answering nod against the older man's chest.

* * *

There's a chance a lot of people might not have gotten the number joke, so I'm now going to feel obliged to explain it to you.

In Soul Eater, the number used to contact the Grim Reaper (aka Lord Death, or Shinigami-sama if you watch/read it in Japanese) is 42-42-564, "whenever you need to knock on Death's door." This number sequence is _shini-shini-goroshi _in romanji, literally meaning "death, death, murder". And I thought it was far too clichéd to make Aizen live in number 42. Anyone who actually _did _get the joke without needing my explanation, well done.

I hope everyone thought the ending bit was sexy.

I had this scene initially written with Aizen wearing his captain's glasses, but I changed it. It seemed to suit the Bitch Curl so much better.

I totally want to draw this, but again…too scared of men's bodies. Damn it.

"It was as though he were hypnotised"…get it, get it, get it? Aizen…and Kanzen Saimin…cos it's Complete Hypnosis…I made a pun. I am punny. XD

*dodges thrown housebricks*

Smex is in the next chapter. I hope everyone's got their tissues ready for the nosebleeds which are definitely going to follow. I don't get it. I absolutely loathe and despise Ichigo, but I find AiIchi really, really hot. Weird.


	5. Erotica

Okay, so it's a challenge.

Goal: To gain OVER 9,000 TOTAL HITS by the end of the month of January. (I'm currently on 8,300.)

Obstacle: I need 700 more hits. In the space of a day. How to obtain said fanfiction-viewing publicity?

BY WRITING SHAMELESS SMUT, OF COURSE! AiIchi sex should do it.

In case you didn't guess by the above (and the chapter title), here be lemon. Don't read if you're a child or an innocent or someone who doesn't like yaoi.

I have tried to do this well, but I've only started doing yaoi recently. If you don't think it's good, or if you think I need to improve it, then please tell me. As long as the criticism is constructive. No flames plz.

And…wait a sec. I totally can't write this with my mother's picture of Bruce Springsteen staring at me. It's kinda creepy.

*goes and closes cupboard*

There, all better. Now I can write.

(Oh, and if you want to get annoyed at me for taking too long to do the sex scene, blame StarCraft.)

(No, blame Blizzard Entertainment.)

(No, blame _Aizen. _My theory is that he's secretly controlling Blizzard, and has millions of nerds as his mindslaves.)

(HE USES WORLD OF WARCRAFT TO CONTROL THEM.)

(DON'T PLAY WOW. WHATEVER YOU DO. OR STARCRAFT. I THOUGHT I WAS SAFE…turns out buying SC2 was my downfall.)

* * *

Dancing Lessons

* * *

Chapter 5

Erotica

* * *

Was he supposed to want it this much?

Aizen was right. This was wrong, wrong, so horribly wrong. He had a girlfriend. Right now, he was betraying her.

Aizen trailed his fingers down Ichigo's bare spine. 'Such a beautiful body,' he murmured. 'And yet you seem to feel the need to hide it beneath something as mundane as clothing.'

Ichigo couldn't stop the long, drawn-out moan as the man's fingertips danced across the skin of his back and shoulders. What in hell was he doing? He was straight, damn it. _Straight. _

What was he _doing, _cheating on his girlfriend with this -

Ichigo looked up at Aizen's face, and felt his breath and the tirade in his head drain out of him in a sigh.

Aizen was the very paragon of perfection. His tongue darted out again to lick his full bottom lip, a gesture which sent blood straight to Ichigo's groin. There was something lush and inviting and somehow obscene about the way those chocolate eyes traced his face and body with a slow heated linger.

How, exactly, had he been planning to finish his earlier sentence? Monster, lecherer, rapist even?

No. All those words implied that Ichigo was a victim in this situation, that he was unwilling, undeserving, a child incapable of feeling the desire that was only proper here and now.

Ichigo's hands moved against Aizen's body through the silk shirt. He could feel the older man's well-muscled chest, and wondered briefly what a chemistry teacher was doing with a body like that. He decided he didn't give a damn. His fingers went eagerly to the throat of Aizen's shirt, trying to undo the next button down.

Aizen caught Ichigo's hand in his own, a faint amused smile curving his lips. 'You don't get a reward,' he murmured, 'until you've done something to earn it.' He drew Ichigo's hand to his mouth, closing his lips around the fingers and chuckling again at the whimpers he induced.

God - watching that _mouth _licking and sucking his fingers, taking painstaking care with each digit, with Aizen stopping every so often to smile around Ichigo's fingers and regard him with those dangerous dark eyes -

Ichigo couldn't stop himself from picturing Aizen's lips around another part of his anatomy. His mind conjured up an image of Aizen's head of thick brown hair bent down between his thighs, paying the same careful attention with his mouth.

Shit. He was aroused beyond belief. Aizen seemed to sense that. With a dark sound of amusement, he moved his right hand down Ichigo's chest between their bodies, reaching the waistband of his jeans.

Ichigo groaned helplessly. Aizen's fingers stroked the painfully tented fabric of the jeans, mimicking what Ichigo's own hand had just stopped doing. Ichigo arched his back, pressing his body harder into the other man's. 'Please - more,' he begged, hardly consciously aware he was saying the words.

Aizen's head moved away. Ichigo's fingers fell out of the man's beautiful mouth, and Aizen's left hand traced the surface of his cheek while the other taunted and teased his erection through the jeans.

'I don't think so,' his teacher chuckled. 'Not here, in any case. Off,' he commanded, and Ichigo blinked at him dazedly, unable to believe it was going to end already.

Aizen's eyes narrowed. 'Off,' he repeated.

Ichigo drew in a sharp breath. He stood up shakily. Aizen stood as well, the expression on the man's face unreadable. Ichigo blushed, glancing at his shirt lying in a dark puddle on the floor. He wondered, briefly, whether to put it back on.

Aizen turned away, pausing only to glance at Ichigo over his shoulder. 'Follow me,' he ordered.

Ichigo was at a loss as to what to do. Aizen was heading up a flight of stairs at the end of the room, obviously not waiting for him. Ichigo made up what was left of his mind. He followed in silence, wondering with equal parts dread and anticipation where they were going.

Aizen reached a door, and pushed it open. Ichigo flushed again, seeing the interior of the room, the dark silhouette of a bed.

This was for real. He was really going to - lose his virginity - to a man. Was he sure he wanted to go through with this?

Did he, indeed, have any choice in the matter?

Aizen's arms encircled his body, hands exploring his chest and stomach and back, the older man making a noise of approval. 'Hmm - you may undress me,' he said huskily, capturing Ichigo's lips in a kiss.

No, he had no choice whatsoever. Ichigo knew his body was going to let Aizen claim him, with or without Ichigo's consent. He wanted Aizen to touch him - no, he wanted so much more than that. He wanted Aizen naked, he wanted Aizen here and now on Aizen's bed.

His fingers moved hastily to the buttons of Aizen's shirt, undressing the older man clumsily and greedily as if Ichigo were a child unwrapping a long-desired present. Aizen chuckled again as Ichigo's fingers, his stupid clumsy fingers, fumbled with his pants, finally sliding them down over long muscular legs.

Ichigo stopped then. Aizen stood in front of him, making no attempt to cover himself, smiling an amused ironic smile as Ichigo's eyes ran over his body.

He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He wanted -

Oh, God, how he wanted.

He wanted that body against his, sculpted and muscular and still somehow elegant. He wanted those long legs wrapped around his hips, and he wanted -

Ichigo felt himself redden as his eyes lingered in between Aizen's legs. He'd never seen another man fully naked before. Even so, he felt a hungry mix of desire and curiosity, wanting to tangle his fingers in the thick curling brown hair, wanting to stroke them along Aizen's erection.

'What's wrong?' Aizen laughed. 'Am I not to your liking?'

Ichigo mutely shook his head. 'I -' he began. Aizen waited expectantly.

The words wouldn't come out, and then all of a sudden they came out all at once.

'I _want _you.' It came out of him in a gasp.

'So it would seem.' Aizen smiled wickedly, moving to the other side of the room. Ichigo noticed the large white leather armchair in the corner, somehow reminiscent of a seat of power, perhaps a throne. Aizen turned, settled himself in it, and beckoned Ichigo forward.

'Get on your knees,' he ordered.

Ichigo complied, feeling his body tremble. He was on the carpet in front of Aizen, watching as the man's legs parted, knowing what was expected of him and - to his lingering shame - not feeling anything like dread. In fact, the thought of it filled him with guilty excitement, doing nothing to dispel his own arousal.

Aizen leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, a king on his throne. 'Worship me,' he whispered.

Ichigo bent his head, kissing Aizen's knees as if in fervent prayer. Why was he so turned on by the act of submitting to another man? He couldn't answer that, and didn't care.

He kissed and licked the inside of Aizen's thigh, gradually moving higher. Ichigo decided to satisfy his own curiosity first. He slipped his hand between Aizen's legs, curling his fingers around Aizen's length.

He noticed that Aizen was bigger than he was, and felt himself redden again at that. Ichigo knew his own pants were going to have to come off eventually, and he wondered whether Aizen would mentally compare Ichigo with himself.

He stroked Aizen's erection in short rhythmic motions, felt the man's breath catch with impatience. Aizen looked down on him, displeasure twisting his full lips. Then his expression changed to that wicked smile again.

'Take me into your mouth,' Aizen murmured, seductive as always. 'Taste me.'

Ichigo obeyed. Tentatively, shyly, he moved his entire body forward, closing his lips around Aizen's arousal, letting his tongue play across the tip.

Aizen sighed and leaned back, hips jerking forward just a little. 'Yes,' he whispered. 'Adore me.'

Was this really for real? It all felt so dreamlike now. Ichigo licked along Aizen's erection, taking him into his mouth again, feeling the man groan and buck his hips a second time.

A warm hand cupped the back of Ichigo's head, fingers curling into his hair. 'Enough,' Aizen's voice told him out of the darkness. 'On your feet.' Ichigo was confused, but did as he was ordered.

He heard Aizen leave the chair, move over to somewhere else in the room. Light flared, and Ichigo blinked. The candle flame left purple imprints on his retinas. Aizen caught the head of the match he'd used between thumb and finger, extinguishing it with ease. He smiled, the orange light flickering in his eyes and gilding his body.

To Ichigo, Aizen looked as though he were made of fire. What were they called, those spirits? Djinn, yes, that was it.

Ichigo was amazed he'd managed to come up with that much, his mind confused and befuddled with traitorous lust as it was. He worked out, rather dimly, that it was the wrong word for the man standing in front of him. Aizen had been right.

He really was a god.

Aizen flicked the burnt-out match away carelessly, letting it fall to some unknown spot on the floor. 'Undress.' That command was just as lazy and careless as the action had been.

Ichigo swallowed, feeling nervous. He unbuttoned his jeans, tugging them off. His left foot caught in the cuff, and Ichigo swore in his head, knowing what he must look like. Blushing for the millionth time, he threw them away, hesitantly sliding his boxers down over his hips and letting them fall around his ankles.

Aizen's smile widened. 'Ah, yes,' he sighed, walking closer. Ichigo saw naked lust in the man's eyes as Aizen's gaze travelled over Ichigo's chest and crotch and legs. 'I really shall enjoy you. Now,' he added, almost as an afterthought, 'on the bed.'

Ichigo paused. That hesitation was enough to make Aizen catch him around the waist, pinning him to the sheets. Those dark eyes were narrowed with displeasure again.

'Never,' he said, 'hesitate to obey me again.'

Ichigo nodded slowly. Aizen paused, and then lifted himself away from Ichigo. 'Wait.' Ichigo heard him move over to a chest of drawers, pulling something out. He couldn't see clearly what it was.

He heard the clink of glass, a bottle being opened, a slightly floral scent with a musky undertone. Aizen lowered himself on top of Ichigo again, curling slick oiled fingers around Ichigo's erection.

'_Fuck -'_ Ichigo arched and groaned. He couldn't remember ever feeling his good in his entire life.

'Now, now,' Aizen chided. 'Profanities offend me, Ichigo. You would do well to bear that in mind.' He chuckled. 'Although I suppose it can't be helped. My partners tend to forget themselves in the bedroom.'

His other hand slid around Ichigo's back, slippery fingers entering him. Ichigo tensed. He wasn't an idiot, he knew how it worked when two men slept together, but -

'Be patient,' Aizen told him, working his two fingers a little deeper, slowly adding a third. The sensation, although odd, brought its own kind of pleasure, and Ichigo arched and stretched. Aizen's other hand continued its ministrations. Ichigo wondered idly if the man was ambidextrous. It seemed impossible for him not to be.

That thought was gone when Aizen stopped, lifting his hands under Ichigo's thighs, positioning his hips.

His smile held dark intelligence in it, as always. 'Are you ready for me, my slave?' he murmured. 'Are you ready to please your king, your god?'

Ichigo nodded, and felt Aizen push into him, heard his own cry of shameless pleasure. It didn't even hurt as he'd expected it to. It just felt -

Aizen's hand closed around Ichigo's length again, stroking him, and the thought disappeared.

His virginity was gone, he managed to think as Aizen pushed in again, deeper and harder. He had given himself up to someone who wasn't Orihime, someone who wasn't even a woman, and God he didn't care because it felt fucking _fantastic, _the most pleasurable thing in existence, and Aizen was thrusting faster now, his spare hand pushing Ichigo's hips down into the bed -

Ichigo jerked his hips upwards into Aizen's, groaning and gasping as his orgasm ripped through him, hitting him hard. Aizen's body tensed too as he shuddered into the younger man, both of them finally collapsing on the sheets.

As the warm satisfied afterglow died away, the guilt began to set in. Ichigo squirmed, even as Aizen pulled him into his chest again. Those long fingers stroked his hair as if Ichigo were his lapdog, his pet, truly his slave, and Ichigo shivered. He had no business being here. He had meant to save this moment for someone he loved.

'Aizen -' he began.

'Shh,' Aizen soothed. 'Sleep.'

And sleep Ichigo did, drifting slowly into warm darkness almost against his will, his body's exhaustion claiming him.

* * *

Wow, this is like more than 2000 words of pure smut. It took a surprising amount of effort to write.

_List of Things This Chapter Required In Production_

(Bear in mind this was written in the depths of an Australian summer, in the Unpredictable Weather Capital of the World - aka Canberra)

1. A litre of iced tea. (I actually did drink this much iced tea. I'm not even exaggerating.)

2. A shitload of pasta (My parents have left me in my house with a ton of leftovers. All of which are pasta. I think I'm going to be thoroughly sick of it by Saturday.)

3. Two muffins

4. A fan

5. A CD player and two A Perfect Circle CDS

6. A cup of coffee (although I figured out that iced tea works way better as a drink for while I'm writing, during summer at least)

7. Procrastination, ie Facebook

8. Procrastination, ie StarCraft II

9. Isolation

10. Some motivation

11. Love and support, especially from **Sariniste**. Hope you liked the chapter.

12. And a blood sacrifice. Preferably that eleven-year-old child who poked at my bra strap on the bus today. I really wish I was joking, but I'm not. Little shit. I wanted to kill him. But fuck, I can now be tried as an adult. Being eighteen sucks, man.

(Just kidding about the blood sacrifice.)

(But it'd be nice.)

(Especially if it was that kid.)

(He had a MULLET for fuck's sake. A fucking MULLET. The only person allowed to wear a mullet is Kami-sama a.k.a. Aizen, because he can pull it off. Sexily. No one else can. Good bye. See you later.)

(The chibi Aizen that lives inside my head has promised to kill said kid slowly and painfully for me, but I kinda have my doubts as to how much he can do from the inside of my head.)

(It was a nice gesture though.)

Anyway, I'm off to bed. I have a date tomorrow. YES I actually have an almost love life. (After a year of being single and proud of it.) And he looks like Aizen pre-betrayal. So I need to sleep, mainly so I can have time to water the damn plants tomorrow morning before it gets hot, which takes two hours. At least. (Australian summer, remember?)

Nighty-night (or good morning, for those of you in the US. By my iPod's reckoning, it's about six in the morning over there. I could be wrong.)


	6. Trauma

Why oh why do I have the StarCraft Pylon Mix on my iPod? On repeat, no less?

And now I'm writing steamy yaoi fanfiction.

Where did my parents go wrong raising me?

Before you read the chapter, I just want to thank everyone who's read this story and said that they liked it, or even favourited or alerted it. Hell, if you clicked on the first chapter and contributed to my hit count, I'm grateful. I'd particularly like to thank **Eldar-Melda**, **Kohanita **and **Astera94 **for reviewing regularly, and as always thank you to **Sariniste **for your lovely long reviews, without which I would be far less motivated to write. In fact I would probably die without them. Yes, I need your reviews to LIIIIIIIIVE...

*insert Keigo face*

Ahem.

* * *

Dancing Lessons

* * *

Chapter 6

Trauma

* * *

His eyes slowly blinked open.

Ichigo stretched, waking up. He spread his limbs across his bed sheets, looking up at his ceiling. He felt unusually refreshed. As of late, he hadn't been sleeping well, probably because of the test that was on Monday -

Then he remembered, and a slow burning flush crept across his face and down his neck.

_Aizen. _

Ichigo threw the sheets away, looking down at himself. He was wearing the old pair of boxer shorts that he always slept in, kept under his pillow during the day. He was confused, to say the least.

He stretched, and reddened again as he felt himself sore in places he had no right to be sore in. His body felt pleasantly sated, joints floating and almost feeling detached -

No. There was no way he'd had sex last night. Ichigo could remember falling asleep in Aizen's bed. And he was most definitely in his own room now.

He looked down at his arm, saw the fine red-gold hairs dusting the skin gleaming in the morning light. It was cliched and unlikely to definitively prove anything.

_What the hell, _Ichigo thought, and pinched himself. It felt sharp and painful, but the sensation didn't bring any great enlightenment with it. At least he was awake now.

Ichigo could just picture waking up in the bastard's bed, seeing that smug smile looking down at him as Aizen's arms wound themselves around his back, those delicious lips brushing his, tongue entering his mouth in a kiss -

Damn it. He could see his erection tenting the fabric of his boxers, painfully obvious. All he needed now was for Karin or Yuzu to walk into his room and see him like this.

The way the universe seemed to love him, it was probably going to happen any minute now.

Ichigo scowled, looking around his room. He retrieved a pair of jeans - not the dark pair he'd been wearing in the dream - and a white shirt from the floor of his room. Neither smelled too bad. He was out of clean clothes, and definitely wasn't in the mood to do a wash like he was supposed to.

He opened his bedroom door, holding the bundle of clothes in front of his crotch and trying to look like he was doing it casually. Fortunately, no one else seemed to be up yet. Ichigo headed for the shower, undressed, and turned on the water as hot as it would go.

The smarting pain as he got in distracted him from more thoughts of the horribly erotic dream he'd had, and had the bonus effect of killing his erection fairly quickly. Ichigo showered quickly, towelled himself off, and dressed.

He decided he would spend the day studying, since his head felt remarkably less full of chemistry than it had the day before. It bothered him that the dream had had such a marked effect on him. Hell, he'd never even had dreams like that about Orihime before, which was good because he'd feel awful about it if he did -

Ichigo stopped himself from remembering the dark bed sheets, the candlelight, the other man's muscular body and naked arousal moving against his own. He needed a distraction, and chemistry revision would fit the bill.

Not particularly wanting breakfast, he went back into his room, settled down at his desk, and began to look for his notes. He'd met up with Keigo after the other boy had finished work yesterday, and had managed to scrounge what little Keigo had bothered to scribble down in class over the week. Ichigo had pretended he'd lost his notebook. He hadn't wanted, fairly obviously, to tell Keigo that the reason he needed notes for chemistry was that he spent every period staring at the substitute teacher instead of writing.

He _would _do well in this test, damn it.

Ichigo rubbed his forehead and sighed. He was almost…angry at Aizen for making him react in this way. All of a sudden it felt silly, childish. God knew it wasn't Aizen's fault, even if the man did secretly have a graduate degree. There was nothing in itself bad about that. There was probably a legitimate explanation for it.

Still, the idea nagged at Ichigo. He badly wanted to know what that legitimate explanation was, assuming it existed. A teacher's pay was shit, he knew that much. There was a reason all the members of the Karakura High faculty marched around with twisted, sour expressions on their faces, making it clear for anyone to see that they hated their jobs. The only teacher at the school who seemed to enjoy working there was Kurotsuchi Mayuri, and Ichigo knew that wasn't out of any desire to educate a bunch of surly teenagers.

Why would anyone willingly choose teaching as a career over a research position? And a fulfilling research position at that, Ichigo thought to himself. He'd done some Googling of his own. The man had graduated Tokyo University with his doctorate at only twenty-two, had gone on to work for a research firm which he'd eventually ended up heading, and had published some fifty-something papers since then, all in reputable scientific journals.

Why would someone like that give up that sort of career, that sort of _prestige, _for the drudgery of a high school teaching job?

Ichigo didn't know, and that was what bothered him.

He opened the textbook, forcing himself to focus. He didn't have time to worry about Aizen Sousuke and his motives now. He had more important things to do.

Ichigo only managed to study for perhaps fifteen minutes at most before he heard the bang of the front door being opened, a bellow from the overzealous Isshin.

It was only a matter of time before his bedroom door swung open, slamming into the wall behind it. Isshin grinned, poking his head around the doorframe. 'I was right, Inoue-san!' he confirmed. 'My son the nerd is still studying.'

'Get the hell out!' Ichigo stood, swinging his leg and imprinting his shoe firmly on Isshin's forehead. 'I'm busy!'

Isshin backed away, rubbing his nose. 'Is that any way to treat your father?' he demanded. 'I opened the door for your girlfriend!' He turned away, yelling downstairs. 'You deserve better than my stupid son, Inoue-san! I wish I had a smarter son for you to date so you could still be my daughter-in-laaaaw -'

Ichigo slammed the door in his father's face, narrowly missing his fingers. 'Stupid old goat-face,' he muttered.

A knock came at the door, gentle and polite. Ichigo smiled, opening it. He recognised his Orihime.

She smiled up at him shyly, dressed in a swirling red skirt and a close-fitting white top. 'Hi, Kurosaki-kun.' She held out a basket. 'These are for you.'

Ichigo took it, not without a little trepidation. He'd sampled Orihime's cooking before. It had always been a bizarre experience.

Orihime saw his look, and smiled brightly. 'Don't worry,' she said. 'Tatsuki-chan and I made them together.'

Ichigo grinned. 'Thanks,' he said, setting the basket on his desk. 'What are they, anyway?'

'Brownies,' she replied, sitting on his bed. Ichigo sat down next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. He buried his face in the top of her head, welcoming the distraction. He could smell the clean flowery shampoo she used. She smelt warm and safe and good.

'Actually,' Orihime said, nuzzling his neck, 'I came over to see how you are, Kurosaki-kun.'

Ichigo stiffened. 'I'm doing fine, Orihime,' he said, trying to smile it off. 'Although it's sweet that you're worried about me when I'm trying to study.'

'That's not what I meant.' Orihime laced her fingers in his. She moved her head away from his neck and looked at him, dark grey eyes wide and perceptive. 'You've been - kind of distant.'

Ichigo shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. 'I guess it's just this test. Well, not just this test,' he lied. 'The whole university thing. I'm just freaking out about not failing.'

Orihime squeezed his hand. 'Everyone worries about that,' she told him. 'I do too.'

Ichigo laughed. 'You? You're the smartest girl in the school,' he said. He leant down to kiss her, breathing in the good warm smell. 'And,' he added as he drew away, 'the prettiest.'

She blushed and laughed. Then her face turned serious again. 'I'm glad that's all it is,' she said. 'I don't like worrying about you.'

'You don't have to.' Ichigo drew her into his arms, hoping he was right. He couldn't afford to go to pieces now.

He couldn't afford to remember his plan to go to Aizen's house, or remember that the clothes he'd worn were conspicuously absent from his room. He couldn't afford to remember the soreness when he'd woken up this morning.

He had to keep his cool. He couldn't fall to pieces, because then Orihime would have to pick them up, and Ichigo couldn't live with himself if that happened.

* * *

What do we think? Was it all a dream? Or is Ichigo just kidding himself?

LOL Ichigo's denial. In canon he totally wants Aizen in the pants. There is so much evidence for this in the Deicide arc. So, so much.

Suspense is suspenseful.

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. XD


	7. Examination

I think we can all agree that Mayuri would be the best mad science teacher ever. Sure, you'd have to be at least as nuts as he is to pass, but hey…who cares?

This chapter is a reassuring hug to everyone who's ever sat an exam and gotten up at the end with the "holy crap I just did epically bad" feeling at the end. I have gotten this feeling many, many times. (Some genius I am.)

But no, I'm going to work hard this year. Second year of university, woot! And my last year of being a teenager. (Impending nineteenth birthday = :S…I'm gonna feel so old when I turn twenty.)

Hopefully I don't get any sexy distractions, like Ichigo does…

* * *

Dancing Lessons

* * *

Chapter 7

Examination

* * *

'Oh man, we're all gonna _fail_!'

'Calm down, Asano-san.' Mizuiro looked at ease, as always, holding his pen and calculator as well as a copy of the cheat sheet and periodic table they were all allowed for the test.

Keigo's eyes were desperate. 'How long have I known you?' he exclaimed. 'And yet you've started talking to me like I'm a teacher all of a sudden.'

Tatsuki punched him in the arm, more gently than usual. 'He's right,' she told him. 'If you've studied the material like you're _supposed _to, then you should be fine.'

'Tatsuki-chan is right.' Orihime smiled at Keigo. 'You're smarter than you act, Keigo-san.'

'What's _that _supposed to mean?'

Ichigo ignored Keigo's antics as usual, sitting at one of the desks in the examination hall about halfway down. He didn't particularly want to sit near the front. He didn't want to increase his chances of being distracted. _Don't think about Aizen, _he thought to himself. That only made it happen, according to the bizarre logic of ideas.

To stop that in its tracks, to stop the memory before it came out to screw his concentration over utterly, Ichigo looked around the room. Calling it an examination hall was a laugh, really. It was just the school sports gym, portable desks set out in rows of twenty on the shining floorboards.

They had an hour to do this exam, and Ichigo ran over everything in his head, doing one last frantic check to make sure it was all still there. Bimolecular nucleophilic substitution reactions, yes, he remembered that. Leaving groups and protic versus aprotic solvents, that was easy -

Unimolecular nucleophilic substitution mechanisms? Ichigo struggled to recall those. The class had revised them recently, he knew that much. That had been their first lesson with Aizen -

_Don't think about Aizen, _he told himself forcefully. He couldn't afford to think about Aizen now. He especially couldn't afford to think about having extraordinarily erotic and frighteningly realistic dream-sex with Aizen.

God damn it all, now he was blushing. Surely everyone in the room could see.

In the chair next to him, Orihime fanned herself with her cheat sheet. 'I wish there was air-conditioning in here,' she said. 'It's the middle of summer.'

Oh well, at least he had an excuse for being red in the face. That made Ichigo relax a little.

'Good luck,' he told her. 'Even though you don't need it.'

Orihime giggled. 'Good luck to you too.' She leant over to give him a kiss. 'You'll do fine, Kurosaki-kun.'

The talking in the room gradually died down, and Ichigo saw that teachers were entering the hall at the front. Among them was Aizen Sousuke, wearing his square glasses as usual, hair in his eyes, smiling benevolently at the students.

_Don't think about Aizen. _

Ichigo focused instead on the principal, Yamamoto Genryuusai, who was standing at the very front of the examination venue. Principal Yamamoto didn't usually attend school examinations himself, but this was the seniors' chemistry exam, and they were close to preparing for entrance to university. Yet another reason why Ichigo really couldn't afford to screw this up. Vice-Principal Sasikibe was standing next to him, white hair combed back.

'Kurotsuchi-san asked me to present his condolences to all of you for being too unwell to officiate today's examination,' Yamamoto began. 'He wishes you all success, and wishes me to inform you that he is recovering and should be teaching again before the end of the year.'

'Great,' someone muttered from behind Ichigo. He turned to see Ishida Uryuu adjusting his glasses, trying to hide the distaste in his eyes. It was no secret that Kurotsuchi wasn't exactly Ishida's favourite teacher. When Ichigo had asked, Ishida had told him that there had been a falling-out between Kurotsuchi and his grandfather, who'd been an English teacher at the school some years ago. Ishida hadn't seemed to want to say any more than that, so Ichigo had dropped it, figuring the other boy had a right to privacy even if he did seem to have a ten-foot pole rammed up his ass most of the time.

Ishida noticed him looking, and glared. 'What, Kurosaki?' he demanded in an undertone.

'You don't want old Kurotsuchi coming back, huh?' Ichigo asked. 'Would you rather we keep that guy?' He pointed to Aizen, who - _damn it - _noticed the gesture. The man smiled benignly in his direction, but even that innocent change of expression still made a shiver of heat go through Ichigo.

'As a matter of fact, I would.' Ishida sounded haughty. 'At least Aizen-san doesn't go into explicit details about autopsies on a regular basis in class. Now stop talking to me, Kurosaki. I want to do well on this test.'

'Fine. Have it your way, Ishida.' Ichigo turned around to face the front again, swearing silently. He had wanted to criticise Aizen to someone, anyone, in the vain hope that another person would see the man for being less than squeaky-clean.

Ichigo knew he was out of control. He had had sexual fantasies - albeit unconscious ones - about his substitute chemistry teacher, and now he was trying to foist the blame off onto Aizen himself. He needed help. The sooner Kurotsuchi came back and he no longer had to see Aizen on a regular basis, the better.

Yamamoto had already left the room. Obviously the impromptu principal's address was now over. Vice-Principal Sasikibe stepped forward instead. 'Please commence writing,' he ordered.

Ichigo opened his test paper. The first twenty questions were multiple choice, and as he worked through them he relaxed. The questions were easy. He'd studied the material for these over and over again, he could do it in his sleep. He'd been freaking out for no reason. He was going to pass. No, he was going to do better than pass.

Ichigo grinned to himself. He might even beat Ishida Uryuu, the uppity genius. At the very least he'd be on par with Orihime.

He finished the first section of the exam, and turned to the short answer questions. These, too, weren't altogether difficult. There were a few moments where he had to stop and think, but he always caught the trick in the question and worded the correct answer successfully on the paper. All his studying had paid off. Apart from that, the test was fairly straightforward, not like Kurotsuchi's past exam papers.

Ichigo kept writing, smiling again, occasionally checking a numerical answer on his calculator. The past senior-year papers had been made available on the school websites for perusal, and Kurotsuchi's tests had been bizarre, to say the least. The questions were either fiendishly difficult or downright irrelevant, and it took at least as much luck and partial insanity as hard work and studying to pass senior-year chemistry. Ichigo clearly remembered being amazed that Kurotsuchi Mayuri had kept his job for as long as he had.

Obviously Aizen had written this exam rather than Kurotsuchi. Maybe there were some good points to having him take chemistry after all.

Ichigo turned to the last section of the test paper, feeling remarkably good about himself and the test. The long answer section was worth the most marks, but if it was anything like the rest of the test, Ichigo was going to breeze through it.

_Organometallic Chemistry - Transition Metal Complexes_

Ichigo read through the first problem.

_Question 1. Explain, with reference to crystal field theory, which of the following two nickel complexes is likely to adopt a square planar geometry, and which will configure itself as tetrahedral. _

Ichigo bit his lip. He could only half-remember crystal field theory. Kurotsuchi hadn't gotten to it before he'd had his accident. Aizen had explained it in detail in class the other day -

But Ichigo hadn't been paying attention. Well, he _had _been paying attention, just not to chemistry. Aizen had been wearing a slim-fitting dark collared shirt that day, and Ichigo had been mesmerised by the undone button at the top, the sliver of sculpted chest it had revealed -

_Fuck. _He could remember what fucking _Aizen _had been wearing that day in class, but he couldn't entirely remember how to pinpoint square planar versus tetrahedral? Nickel chemistry had been sketchy for Ichigo to begin with, and zoning out during Aizen's explanation hadn't helped.

He began to write anyway, making his best attempt to answer the question with what he knew. It was only worth five marks anyway.

He moved onto the next. _Draw the reaction mechanism for the unimolecular halogenation of the following organic compound, identify the nucleophile and the electrophile, and give one use for this reaction in industry. _

Fuck. This one was worth ten, and Ichigo didn't have the faintest clue how to do it.

He stared blankly at the page, trying to search his memory, knowing it had to be in there somewhere, even if only subconsciously. _Shit. _How much time did he have left again -

'Stop writing. The examination is over.'

Ichigo numbly closed his test paper, staring into space. He tried mentally adding up the marks he thought he would have gotten. He'd pass for sure, but would he actually do well?

It was unlikely, to say the least.

Ishida was tapping him on the shoulder. 'What?' Ichigo growled. He wasn't in the mood to have some smartass lording it over him right now.

A sigh of exasperation escaped Ishida's lips. 'Pass these test papers forward, Kurosaki,' he said.

Ichigo took the papers, adding his own to the stack. He felt like he'd been hit in the face with a brick. No, he'd been hit in the face with an exam question he'd had no clue how to answer. He sat there numbly, staring into space. This, he realized, had to be how Keigo felt all the time.

He almost would have preferred one of Kurotsuchi Mayuri's test papers.

Everyone around him was standing up, preparing to leave the room. Ichigo followed them numbly. The depression was beginning to sink in. At least Isshin, old goat-face, wouldn't give him a hard time about a bad grade. But Ichigo had never been one of those kids that got good grades for their parents' approval. He had wanted to do well for himself, not for anybody else.

He sighed, watching Orihime walking ahead of him, seeing her smiling and chatting with Tatsuki and Keigo. Any minute now, she was going to turn around, waving for him to join them, and then there would be the inevitable post-mortem of the test -

'Kurosaki Ichigo?'

The voice was soft, deep and male and polite. Ichigo knew that voice very well. It sent a shudder of heat straight to his lower belly, spiking between his legs.

He turned unwillingly, even though he wanted to pretend he hadn't heard Aizen. The only thing that could make today worse was getting punished for rudeness to a teacher.

The man regarded him behind those dark-framed glasses, wearing an expression of concern. 'I couldn't help but notice that you've been having difficulty in class lately.'

Was that a smirk beginning on his lips, a flash of darkness in his eyes? No, it wasn't. It couldn't be. In any case, whatever it was had disappeared, and Ichigo could no longer see it.

'I haven't yet had the opportunity to speak to you about it,' Aizen continued. 'I was wondering if perhaps there was anything I could do to help.'

Ichigo sighed. 'Thanks for your concern,' he said grudgingly. 'But it's kind of late now. I appreciate it,' he added, not wanting to sound rude.

Against his will, the memory bubbled to the surface of his mind. Ichigo remembered the dark bedroom, the faint scent of candle smoke, undressing Aizen and feeling the other man's body pressed against his -

He forced it down, but it was too late. He could already feel the blush flaring in his cheeks and on the back of his neck.

'I'm sure that's not the case.' Aizen, at least, seemed oblivious to Ichigo's discomfort. 'If you're sufficiently worried about your grade, it's always possible to apply for a makeup exam. If you'll come to my office with me, we can discuss it.'

Ichigo hesitated. It would obviously be rude of him to refuse outright, he knew, and he didn't have the presence of mind right now to think up a polite lie. He could see Orihime in the doorway of the gymnasium, her eyes wide and questioning and a little apprehensive when she saw who he was talking to. _You're not in trouble, are you? _she mouthed.

Ichigo shook his head slightly, waving to her with his left hand. _It's okay, _he tried to signal, knowing he was lying at least in part.

He still didn't trust Aizen. He felt guilty about that - the man was trying to _help _him, which was a damn sight more than Kurotsuchi would have done - but something about Aizen made him uneasy.

He was probably just being paranoid. Even if Aizen did have a doctorate, it wasn't a crime to be overqualified for your chosen job. But then Ichigo remembered Orihime's story, Urahara Kisuke's dismissal despite his denial that he'd had any involvement in the arson and drug trafficking incidents - and last but not least…

The nasty crawling feeling that the dream had been ever so slightly more than a dream wriggled in the centre of Ichigo's brain like a maggot, unwilling to leave. Why the hell had he been so sore that morning? He tried to kid himself with some bullshit about dreams feeling real enough to provoke physical responses to what happened to them. But that didn't explain the fact that his best clothes were missing, or the fact that he'd planned to go to Aizen's house but somehow ended up in his own bed asleep at the end of it with no memory of how he'd gotten there.

There was a hell of a lot that didn't add up.

Even knowing that, Ichigo felt himself nodding. 'Sure,' he said to Aizen. 'I have a free period now anyway.' He waved to Orihime again, trying to dispel his guilt as he noticed the outline of Aizen's shoulders through the white pressed shirt the older man was wearing, long-fingered hands adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

If he was suspicious of Aizen, he could disprove his suspicions right here and now. Then Ichigo could get on with his life, and maybe even fix up his chemistry grade while he was at it.

He saw that smirk curl Aizen's lips again as the man turned to leave the gymnasium, heading up a flight of stairs to the left of the door. Ichigo followed behind him, trying to pick out just what he was feeling.

It was a mixture of intense arousal and apprehension.

* * *

It shouldn't take too much brainpower to figure out what's going to happen in Aizen's office. Ichigo really does keep walking into these things, doesn't he?

Don't go, Ichigo! He's not going to help you apply for a makeup exam! He's going to do naughty, naughty things to you!

But you'd like that, wouldn't you? *evil grins* I decided to end this chapter with a leader into more smut. It was originally going to be Ichigo being all "Aaah! I had really hot 'dream-sex' with Aizen and I want to have sex with Orihime because I love her and all this makes me a horrible person and oh god the angst, ANGST ANGST ANGST!"

But I decided Ichigo-angst would be boring. I did that in the last chapter.

Hope everyone liked, and is looking forward to the next one. ;)


	8. Insubordinate

My apologies for taking so long to give you chapter 8. I have a legitimate excuse, I swear - such as my arm currently being in a cast. Apparently when I dislocate a thumb, I do it right. Yes, I had general anaesthetic, a half-cast and a sling, all for one unusually dislocated thumb plus the ligament I managed to tear in my hand. This is a testament to my skill at injuring myself.

Not only do I have to keep the bloody cast on for three weeks, I can't work for those three weeks (due to crappy insurance crap), and I also can't train.

Done with my rant for today. There is hot sex in this chapter. Enjoy.

Oh, and…I was going to just tell everyone who's reading what it is, but I decided that'd be boring. This story is thematically based around a movie I've seen, and a pretty dark one at that. Virtual cookies to anyone who can guess what it is.

And Angry Face for Aizen getting pwned in the anime. This is neither fair nor right. Once upon a time I would have been cheering Urahara for being winzorz, but…now I'm just mad at him for being mean to my Kami.

* * *

Dancing Lessons

* * *

Chapter 8

Insubordinate

* * *

Ichigo's breath caught in his throat. His hands felt hot. He looked down, lifted one hand and saw that his fingers were shaking. There was a lump in his throat, and he tried hard to swallow it down.

Aizen paused on the stairs above him. 'Is something wrong? You look pale.'

Ichigo shook his head, and managed to speak. 'N-no. Nothing.'

Aizen turned, seemingly satisfied, and kept walking. Ichigo tried not to stare at the way the older man's dark pants clung to his long legs, and knew he was doing it anyway. He was just as bad as the countless girls in the school who'd all fallen for Aizen -

They reached a wooden door which looked startlingly familiar to Ichigo. After all, he'd been up here more than once. Although he got decent grades _most _of the time, he wasn't exactly a model student.

'Hey,' he said. 'Isn't this -'

'Kurotsuchi Mayuri-san's office?' Aizen finished. 'He was kind enough to allow me the use of it until he returns to his post.' He unlocked the door, gesturing for Ichigo to enter.

Ichigo did so, swallowing with apprehension. The interior certainly looked vastly different from the other times he'd been summoned here. When Kurotsuchi had been in residence, the desk had been strewn with used coffee cups, some of which were already beginning to develop exotic-looking miniature ecosystems consisting entirely of different species of mould.

The coffee cups were gone, as was the fish tank housing an assortment of snails that Kurotsuchi had kept in the corner of the room. The curtains were drawn halfway, the office well-lit. The desk had been cleared to reveal the original polished wood beneath several years' worth of coffee rings and other detritus, now bearing nothing save a notepad and fountain pen. Behind the desk was a red armchair upholstered in something which looked like - but couldn't possibly be - velvet. A similar chair was opposite Aizen's, on the other side of his desk.

Aizen saw Ichigo's face and his full lips curved in a smile. 'I took the liberty of bringing my own furniture,' he explained. 'I can assure you that Kurotsuchi-san does not mind. Please sit.'

Ichigo did so, feeling his body sink into the chair. Aizen himself made no motion to sit down, instead standing a metre or so away from Ichigo. 'May I offer you a drink?' his teacher asked. 'Tea, perhaps?'

Ichigo shook his head. 'Thanks, but I'm fine.'

Aizen nodded, taking a step closer. Again, Ichigo's eyes were drawn to the man's lips, his throat above the collar of his shirt. He felt himself blush and begin to stammer. 'So - I can take a makeup exam if I fail, right?' he asked.

Aizen smiled. 'Indeed you can, provided Principal Yamamoto gives consent. I'd be more than willing to help you study for it if necessary.'

Ichigo nodded in response, his throat dry. 'And when would I take the exam?' he asked.

'Ordinarily, we choose a date outside of the school calendar, so as not to interfere with normal examinations.'

Ichigo winced at that. He didn't like the idea of taking an exam during the holidays.

'I guess if that's what I need to do to pass -' he said, shrugging.

'Oh, I think you'll do better in my class than merely scraping a pass grade, Ichigo.' Aizen smiled again. Ichigo couldn't look away from his teacher's mouth, couldn't stop himself noticing the tip of Aizen's tongue slowly tracing over that full lower lip.

Part of him felt relieved, knowing he definitely wasn't imagining it. It was only a very small part. The rest of him was in horrified denial. The rest of him insisted that he had to leave now before he embarrassed himself, that he should go back down to Orihime and Keigo and Mizuiro and Tatsuki and Ishida, even if it meant listening to that geek brag about how easy the test had been.

'Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me, Ichigo?' Aizen asked, his voice darkened with a trace of huskiness.

Numbly, robotically almost, Ichigo shook his head, _no. _

'Oh?' Aizen's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. 'Nothing at all?' He smirked. 'Not even, perhaps, the reason you've been so distracted in class to begin with?' His hand rested on Ichigo's shoulder. A surge of heat went through Ichigo, and he groaned in the back of his throat, feeling how painfully hard he was at that small, simple gesture.

'No,' he managed to say, despite all that.

Aizen's eyes left Ichigo's face, travelling slowly and deliberately down his body, finishing in his lap. The older man raised an eyebrow, lips curved in a slight amused smile. Ichigo looked down, saw the evidence of his arousal through his pants, and blushed to the roots of his hair.

Aizen turned away, slowly and leisurely moving to the other side of the desk. He sat, hands folded under his chin, almost as if in a challenge. 'Not even,' he continued, his voice polite and soft, 'where you were last Saturday night? You certainly weren't in your home.'

Ichigo stared at his teacher, shame and horror and desire all coursing flush through his veins. He'd known all along, he supposed, but chosen to lie to himself. He'd even managed to convince himself - if only partially - that it _had _all been a dream, a treacherous dream but a dream nonetheless, that he hadn't really betrayed his girlfriend by sleeping with someone else.

But no, it had been real. It had all been real. He had let Aizen take him. He had enjoyed it more than anything he'd ever experienced before in his life -

- and he discovered, feeling revulsion towards himself, that he wanted more.

Aizen's eyes were simultaneously bright and dark with lust. Ichigo leaned across the desk, felt himself falling into those eyes -

- and felt Aizen's lips meet his own.

He hadn't remembered how different it was to kiss a man. Aizen smelt so different to Orihime. Ichigo's fingers tangled of their own accord into Aizen's thick wavy hair, feeling Aizen's hand move to the back of his neck. Then that pressure was gone, and his teacher was moving away.

Ichigo heard a disappointed whimper escape his lips. His erection was as painful as ever, and Aizen seemed to notice - no, enjoy - his discomfort as he moved out from behind the desk. He took Ichigo into his arms as if he were comforting a child, patting and stroking the younger man's hair.

'This is very inappropriate, isn't it?' he whispered. 'You must be feeling so torn. After all, you have a young woman - and quite a lovely young woman, if I might add - who clearly cares very deeply for you.'

Ichigo felt the guilt course through him at that.

'Of course,' Aizen continued, a barely hidden dark chuckle in his voice, 'I wouldn't presume to act against your moral conscience.' He spoke the last two words with a mocking lilt. 'You are free to walk away if you should so choose.'

Ichigo shuddered, his body overruling his mind. He could feel Aizen's arousal through his pants, pressing against Ichigo's own again, and he moaned, running his hands up the older man's back through the thin white shirt.

Aizen laughed. 'I thought as much. We are alike, Ichigo.' He kissed Ichigo's forehead with a smile. 'I, too, have never felt the need to ignore my own desires at the cost of morality.'

Then his mouth claimed Ichigo's again, tongue slipping past Ichigo's lips and roughly exploring the inside of his mouth. Aizen's hands encircled Ichigo's body, moving over his chest and ribs and stomach before finally - _finally - _moving down lower to move long fingers in expert strokes over Ichigo's erection through his school pants.

Ichigo's own hands were struggling to undo the older man's shirt, his fingers clumsy again when he tried to navigate the buttons. Aizen's right hand stopped what it was doing between his legs and caught Ichigo's own by the wrist, pulling it away. 'Please,' his teacher said, smiling down at the younger man and unfastening the button at his throat deftly. 'Allow me.'

Ichigo was more than happy to. He watched as Aizen slipped his shirt off, a pleased smile curving the older man's lush lips at the sigh escaping his student. Ichigo stared with fascinated perverse desire at Aizen's sculpted body, more developed than his own. Aizen unfastened his pants, letting them fall to the floor, and smiled that benign teacherly smile at Ichigo. 'Would you be so kind?' he asked.

Ichigo slowly got to his knees in front of the other man. He couldn't help but be curious - he kissed Aizen's neck as he sank to the floor, then moved to his nipples, kissing and licking them until he heard Aizen's answering sigh of pleasure. He kissed a line down Aizen's abdomen, pausing to pay special attention to his navel.

Aizen laughed. 'As much as I'm enjoying this,' he said, 'bear in mind your free period only lasts for an hour, Ichigo. I don't intend to spoil you by writing you late passes on a regular basis.'

Ichigo only half-heard most of it. He stroked Aizen's erection, tangling his fingers in curling brown hair, closing his mouth around his teacher's length.

His own arousal ached as he sucked, hearing Aizen's sighs, feeling Aizen's hips jerk forward so that he filled Ichigo's mouth and intruded on the back of his throat.

Why was he so turned on? Ichigo didn't know and - quite frankly - didn't give a damn. A warm hand stroked and petted the back of his head, as if to reward him.

Finally Aizen came hot into his mouth, and Ichigo almost choked, making a noise of discomfort. 'Shh,' his teacher soothed, stroking the back of his neck gently. 'Swallow for me, Ichigo.'

Ichigo half-spluttered and obeyed. There was even something intensely arousing about doing this - of all things - for Aizen, and he gasped when he was finished, his mouth falling away. He collapsed in front of the other man, breathing heavily, still on his knees.

'Now, now, Ichigo. I'm not finished with you yet.' Aizen laughed, his hands on Ichigo's shoulders, clasping them through his shirt. 'Please, undress.'

Ichigo did so, slowly, clumsily, feeling self-conscious about his body again. He stood there in his boxers in front of his teacher, shivering just a little. Aizen raised an eyebrow, eyes lingering pointedly below Ichigo's hips, and Ichigo blushed. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the boxers, letting them fall around his ankles on the floor.

Aizen smirked, drawing off his glasses. 'Good boy,' he murmured. 'Now, on the desk.' He gestured.

Ichigo felt himself flush again as he glanced between Aizen's legs, noticing that the older man was aroused again already. He lay down on the desk on his back, feeling the pressure of the hard surface against his spine.

Aizen made a noise of disapproval. 'No. Stand.' Ichigo obeyed, feeling confused. His teacher smiled wickedly at the expression on his face. 'Turn,' he ordered. 'Bend over.'

Hot desire flushed through Ichigo at that, desire and guilt and shyness. Nevertheless, he did it. He turned, bending his body over the desk, heard Aizen move around him, opening a drawer.

Suddenly he felt impossibly impatient. What the hell was his teacher doing? Why was Aizen prolonging it? He wanted Aizen inside him, now, damn it -

A whimper escaped his throat, a sharp whine of denied lust.

Aizen chuckled. 'You want me so badly,' he murmured. 'But I must keep you waiting for a few moments longer, Ichigo. I doubt you'd enjoy this as much if I took you without preparing myself first.' The drawer was closed again, the heavy thud of something being put back inside.

Then Aizen's body was against his back, warm and firm and strong, Aizen's arousal slick and pushing hard into him, and Aizen's long fingers moving past his right hip to stroke and tease Ichigo's own frustrated aching erection -

Ichigo whimpered again, a whimper which turned into a stifled half-cry of pleasured delight as he felt how slippery Aizen's fingers were, the way they were stroking him gently, almost tenderly, and gradually moving faster. Aizen laughed into the back of his neck and thrust harder.

There was a twinge of pain at that, but Ichigo was forced to ignore it. Aizen thrust even deeper into him, hitting something inside him that made Ichigo arch his back and grip the desk and cry out -

Aizen's spare hand covered Ichigo's mouth at the last second before he hit orgasm, forcing the younger man's scream back inside him. Ichigo fell against the desk, shuddering in the wake of the pleasure he'd just experienced, guilt absent for the moment.

'Please pardon me,' he said. 'I cannot allow you to - shall we say, express yourself fully - in here.' Ichigo heard the older man's laughter as he began dressing himself again. 'However -' Aizen paused, and Ichigo stood, looking into his eyes, trembling slightly at the repressed, only partially sated, desire he saw there.

'I'm sure you remember where I live,' his teacher continued. 'And I give you full permission to scream my name to your heart's content in the privacy of my bedroom.' He cupped Ichigo's chin in his hand, kissing the younger man on the lips. He pulled away after only a moment, wickedness dancing in his eyes again.

'That is, of course,' he said, 'assuming you wish to be my lover.'

Ichigo could only nod, numbly and unquestioningly. Aizen laughed in the back of his throat. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a class to go to,' he said, doing up the last few buttons on his shirt. 'Oh, and Ichigo -'

His teacher stopped in front of the door, about to leave. 'Do clean that up before you go,' he added, looking at the desk. 'With your tongue, if you please.'

Ichigo could only stare blankly at the smirk curling Aizen's full lips as the older man opened the door, exiting the room.

'I'm certain I'll be seeing you tonight, Ichigo,' Aizen concluded, as if they really had just finished a polite, completely above-board discussion regarding chemistry grades.

Ichigo was left alone in what had been Kurotsuchi Mayuri's office, waiting for the guilt to set in, waiting for the exhaustion to leave him.

It didn't. He looked up at the clock on the wall, saw that he had less than ten minutes left before he had to be in class, and began, rather slowly, to dress.

* * *

I figured Aizen deserved some hot sex, since the canon isn't treating him very nicely at the moment. Damn that Urahara Kisuke.

Funnily enough: I used to hate the idea of Aizen and Urahara as a pairing, but I think I might possibly be converted by this awesomely talented girl on deviantART. Go to .net to see her stuff. ( deleted the first part of that link, but if you type in the rest it should work.) She does Aizen beautifully, and she has some very sexy, very pervy pictures of Aizen and Urahara. They involve Aizen's bondage outfit. (For anyone who's underage and reading this - it's okay to look, there's nothing explicit there.) So you should check out her gallery if you like that pairing - and even if you don't.

Unlike her gallery, my fanfic is full of naughty explicit things. Lol, my parents recently found out about my Facebook account, and my mum's added me as a friend. I am so screwed if they find my account and read this story. Well, not screwed, just stranded permanently in Awkward-land. I imagine it would be akin to how fourteen-year-old boys feel when their mothers discover their porn collections.

And…I just compared my fanfiction archive to a fourteen-year-old's porn collection. Come to think of it, it kind of is…except it belongs to an eighteen-year-old girl. An eighteen-year-old girl who has an Aizen fetish. An eighteen-year-old girl with an Aizen yaoi fetish.

Oh dear.

Anyway, goodbye, love from Kelsey, and I hope you enjoyed all the naughty yaoi sex in this chapter.

Probably more in the next. I'm such a perv.

Oh, I totally forgot to mention it, but I have pervy fanfiction of my pervy fanfiction! The lovely **Sariniste **wrote an alternative version of my chapter 6, which is far, far sexier than my chapter 6, and much darker too. Go to her profile and check it out. Much smex, definitely, but also very much NSFW. Like this one, actually.


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